Regardless of what else is going on in your life, your country, your brain or your heart it’s a good year when Endless Boogie descends from the fanged fog to bestow an album on the poor disenfranchised souls laid down at music’s hearth. From the first second that Vibe Killer sweats through your needle, the album owns you. Vocalist and beating heart of the Boogie, Top Dollar, is a beast that leers at the listener and oozes every bit of the twisted soul of 3AM predatory rock n’ roll.
And like the album’s mouthpiece, there’s a sickness to the grooves that inhabit the record, expunged every so often by the raised hackle burn of guitar scream. The outbursts are rare exorcisms, but when the band want’s to twist the knife, they know how hard and fast to turn. For the most part though Endless Boogie are the essence of unshaken cool, reflecting your own insufficiency back in their steady mirrored gaze. Hell, this is a band that’s taken a story about seeing Kiss at a kite festival in ’74 and made it seem like boogie chillun gospel, a tale as old as time riding the rope burned ruts of a molasses groove. That’s musical alchemy. That’s the cold hard delivery of no-nonsense masters at work.
If you’ve come this far in life and had Endless Boogie soundtracking a even a small piece of it, then the album should fit like a worn leather companion. They’re not gonna shake the foundations that built ’em at this point, but the damn sure know how to sell the formula. My advice is to buy the ticket, take the ride and let it seep into your own soul. Take the ninety degree burn of confidence that Vibe Killer employs and refract it back out to your own world. The world won’t see it coming.
Support the artist. Buy it HERE.